When I first moved in with Pete almost six years ago, I honestly didn't like this little house. It was a man's house with blah decorations and paint colors I disliked. And it was in a neighborhood that didn't always feel safe.
But slowly, things changed. The neighborhood turned around as some key folks moved out and new residents moved in. The manfriend did a lot of work to landscape the front yard and built two raised garden beds where I could plant tomatoes and a few other veggies. And on the interior, we slowly made our way painting almost all of the rooms, replacing doors, decluttering and arranging the rooms to our liking.
And then, in an effort to look toward the future and wanting a bit more storage, space and flexibility, we decided to put the house on the market. For several years I admittedly didn't like the house much, then a year or so I began to really feel like it was our home and when we put it on the market, I realized I loved this little place.
And now, as we get ready to sell it, I can't help but want to hold on to this space that now feels cozy, homey, clean and ours.
As I laid in bed unable to sleep last night, all I could think about was not wanting to leave this place, my familiar running routes and our home. But I know deep down that one of the big reasons it finally feels like home is because it's Henry's first home and our first home as a family of three.
I'm reminding myself that home is wherever we are and that as we move on to a rental, which we will be carefully selecting, a new place can feel like home too. Big change is something I've never been fond of, so part of me is likely scared for what's to come (and let's be honest, packing). But I know that with the manfriend and our little guy by my side, it will be just fine.